


Falling

by CaliHart



Category: Hawkeye (Comics), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Angels, Demonic Possession, Food, Hydra (Marvel), M/M, Magic, Sort Of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-03
Updated: 2019-08-03
Packaged: 2020-07-30 14:10:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,984
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20098465
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CaliHart/pseuds/CaliHart
Summary: When Bucky disappeared while on a mission, Clint and the team went looking for him. What they found wasn't quite the same Bucky they had known before.





	Falling

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Trashcanakin](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Trashcanakin/gifts).

> Many thanks to my lovely beta Dottie! This fic was written for the Winterhawk Reverse Big Bang and the art I chose, done by Trashcanakin, is featured [here](https://trashcanakin.tumblr.com/post/186755113403/made-for-winterhawkbigbang-2019-calihart-made) on tumblr

“Bucky’s gone missing.” 

Clint startled so hard he nearly dropped his coffee cup, instead fumbling so bad he set it down sideways, glad it was empty so his hands weren’t covered in scalding coffee as he whipped around. 

“Tony! How did you get in my apartment? I know I didn’t give you a key,” he said suspiciously. 

“Your door was unlocked,” Tony said, raising an eyebrow. “Nice pajamas.” 

“Oh, leave me alone,” Clint grumbled, turning back to his mug and setting it upright. “Why are you here?” 

“Didn’t you hear me? I said Bucky’s gone missing.” 

Clint braced both hands on the counter. “Thought he was off on some ‘top secret’ mission for you.” 

“He was. But he hasn’t checked back in in a while. JARVIS hasn’t picked up any activity from him and all his trackers have gone dead.” 

“So what do you want from me?” Clint asked, pouring himself a cup of coffee and sipping at it. 

“We’re getting the team together to go find him. If he’s gone dark-side like Steve, he should be put down. If not, we’ll bring him home.” 

“And if he’s just gone quiet for the mission? You’re just gonna blow it for him?” 

“It’s not that kind of mission, and yes, he’s more important than that.” 

“Strange to hear that from you.” Clint swirled the coffee in his cup and stared down at it. “Why are you bringing me in? Couldn’t you do it yourself?” 

“Without Steve or Natasha around, you’re the one on the team who knows him best. We figured you’re our best chance.” 

Clint snorted and downed his coffee, setting the cup down and turning to leave the kitchen. “Help yourself to some coffee while I get ready. We’ll get him back, one way or another.” 

~~

Sitting in a conference room chair, especially one as comfortable as the ones in the Tower, made Clint want to fall asleep. He made himself stay awake though, taking in the details of Bucky’s mission and everything that had been done since his last check in. Around the table with him were Sam, Bruce, Wanda, and Pietro, with Tony standing at the head directing things. 

“I’m not sure I’m the right choice for this mission, Tony,” Bruce was saying. “It seems like it requires more...stealth.” 

“Right you are, Brucie-bear. Which is why you’ll be staying here in command central,” Tony said, pointing at him with the pen he had been gesturing with. “I will be there as backup, in case we need a show of force.” 

“Wait, if you’re there as backup, who’s gonna be in charge?” Sam asked, half raising his hand before dropping it again to cross his arms. 

“That would be the Amazing Hawkeye.” 

Clint lifted his head and everyone turned to look at him. “I’m in charge?” he asked. 

“That is what I said, yes. Do I need to check your hearing aids before you go? Batteries dying on you?” 

“My aids are fine, Tony.” Clint scanned the faces around him. “Well if I’m in charge…” he gave a grin that he really didn’t feel, “Avengers, Assemble.” 

~~

Clint secluded himself in the cockpit of the quinjet. Autopilot could take care of the flying once he’d put in the coordinates of their destination, but he’d prefer to be there in case he needed to take over quickly. Or at least that’s what he’d tell the others, if they asked. Mostly he just wanted to be alone for a while to think. 

Of course, they’d only been in the air for half an hour when the door to the rest of the jet opened and Sam leaned in, his hands braced on either side of the doorframe. 

“Mind if I join you?” he asked. 

Clint grunted and gestured wordlessly to the copilot’s seat. 

Sam thankfully closed the door before taking the empty chair. “Should have known I’d find _Hawk_eye in the _cock_pit,” he joked. 

Clint shot him a glare, and Sam held his hands up in defense. The two of them fell into silence, staring out the windshield. The tension grew thick enough Clint felt he could cut it with a knife, finally barking out, “What do you want, Sam?”

“Just thought I’d come check on you, see how you’re doing.” 

“I’m fine. If that’s all, you can go.” 

“Actually I wanted to escape from Tony and the twins, they’re getting annoying.” 

“_Sam_.” 

“Okay, fine.” Sam half twisted in the chair, staring at the side of Clint’s head. “I know what you’re going through right now.” 

Clint clenched his teeth. “You have no idea what I’m going through.” 

“Sure I do. You think I didn’t go through the same thing when Steve first disappeared on me? Not knowing if he was alive or dead, being held prisoner or tortured? And then suddenly he was back, but something was off, and then he up and said he’d been Hydra the whole time?” Sam sat back in his chair and crossed his arms. “That’s some bullshit. The man I knew would never have been a Hydra plant. I don’t care how much time he spent on a stage back in the day, he’s not that good an actor.” 

“So you think he got brainwashed or something?” Clint asked slowly. 

“Or something,” Sam confirmed. 

“Well. Shit.” 

“Yeah.” 

Silence fell again for a minute. 

“So yeah, I know what you’re going through,” Sam said. 

“Yeah, I guess you do.” 

“You wanna talk about it?” 

Clint snorted. “What are you, my therapist?” 

“No.” Sam looked at him seriously. “But I am your friend.” 

Clint scrubbed his hands over his face, trying to ignore the way his eyes felt hot. “I just. You know, when we were looking for Nat, he was such a prickly asshole, it kinda became a game to try and make him smile, or laugh? And then one day I realized that it was less of a game and more because I liked the way his face looked when he was happy, and that I wanted to see it more. I don’t even know when he became my friend.” 

“Tell Uncle Sam all about it,” Sam murmured. 

Clint snorted again and rolled his eyes. “I don’t think I can even hope for more than that. I’ve seen his type. Him and Natasha, you know...I think he’d get along better with any of my exes than with me. I’m not exactly James Bond.” 

“Are you serious?” Sam demanded. 

“What?”

“You better not be fishing for compliments.” 

“What are you talking about?” 

Sam rolled his eyes. “Boy, you’re lethally hot when you let yourself be. I might be interested in you myself if I went for dumbasses.” 

“Hey,” Clint protested. 

“Seriously, you’re the stupidest smart guy I know. This team is _made_ of dangerously hot people, and you are no exception.” 

“You mean it?” 

“Yeah!” Sam raised an eyebrow. “No matter what your brain or your exes might tell you, you’re a good guy with a good face. Don’t doubt yourself.” 

“Oh. Thanks, Sam.” 

“Don’t mention it.” 

“So...what do you think we’ll find when we get there?” Clint asked. 

“Honestly?” Sam glanced at him. “If I know anything about Barnes, it’s that he’s a stubborn bastard, too stubborn to die. No matter what we find, he’ll be alive. Whatever state that may be, he’ll be alive.”

~~

Far away in Latvia, Bucky Barnes opened his eyes. 

~~

They came in slow and quiet, in the dark. Their reconnaissance had led them to the warehouse district, one building that had been suspiciously dark during the day and busy in the evenings. 

“Why is it always warehouses?” Sam muttered from his position on a roof near their target. 

“Security doesn’t look too closely at warehouses unless something governmental is involved,” Tony said, stationed on a building on the opposite side from Sam. 

“You break into warehouses often?” Pietro asked. 

“Quiet,” Wanda said. “Don’t distract Clint.” 

Clint tapped his earpiece twice in thanks, knowing they would hear it through the comms. He felt Wanda’s eyes on his back as he crept into the warehouse through a side door that didn’t see much activity. 

Inside was bustling with activity that they couldn’t see from outside, people murmuring in rooms and hallways and calling orders in the large central room, the loud beeping of a forklift and boxes being stacked and crates being sealed. Clint crept through the shadows, darting past doorways and peeking around stacks of pallets. They were packing an unusually large amount of books along with the usual files and stacks of loose papers. That wasn’t the only thing unusual. One guy was filling a box with half melted pillar candles, grumbling to the guy who was filling a small cloth bag with pieces of chalk next to him. 

“I don’t see why we need to take all these candles. The ritual is over, it was successful, why can’t we just get new candles at the next place if we need them?”

“Oh shut up. You should know by now it’s better not to argue with the boss, especially now that he’s got that demon in the back room.”

“I’m not arguing, I’m just saying—”

Someone walked by holding a ouija board and Clint rolled his eyes. This faction of Hydra was dabbling in the occult. There was no telling what the crackpots could think up. He snuck away, heading for the back of the warehouse where he would hopefully find Bucky. 

The rear hallway was suspiciously deserted considering how busy the rest of the place was. It was only lit by one lightbulb at each end, making it feel a little spooky as he went down the hall checking rooms. Most of the doors stood open, the rooms empty, but one stood securely locked in the middle of the hallway. Clint glanced up and down the hall before crouching with his lockpicks in hand. It was the work of a moment to get the door open. It swung in on silent hinges, and he raised his eyebrows when he saw just how thick the door was: solid wood reinforced with iron bands that reflected the firelight inside the room. And on the wall opposite the door was…

“Bucky?” Clint whispered. A twitch of motion came from the figure slumped against the wall. His wrists were chained to the wall, held up and out in some weird parody of Jesus on the cross, but he was kneeling on the concrete. A few candles flickered on the ground in front of him, several others sitting extinguished or lying tipped over in the vague shape of a circle around him. Clint stepped further into the room and shut the door behind himself, squinting. “Are you okay?” The firelight was casting weird shadows behind his back and making his twisted, tangled hair look darker in some spots. Bucky slowly lifted his head and Clint paused when he saw the light in Bucky’s eyes. It was surely just the candlelight reflected in his eyes. Nevermind that human eyes didn’t reflect light like that. 

“Come on, let’s get you out of here,” he murmured, crossing the space and crouching to begin picking the lock on his right wrist. There were some odd symbols—runes, probably—painted on it. Bucky’s skin underneath looked red and raw, like it had been burned. Bucky’s head turned enough to watch him work. Clint glanced over to see him peering through his hair. 

“That’s a little creepy, bud. What, no sass? No thank you for saving you from Hydra?” Clint asked. 

Bucky growled, and Clint went still for a second before he dropped Bucky’s wrist from the chains. 

“Okay, weird,” he murmured, moving to release the left wrist. He kicked a few candles out of his way, sending them rolling across the floor. Bucky’s head tracked the motion. “Hydra’s really cracked this time, huh? I saw one with a ouija board. What were they trying to do with all these candles? Hold a seance? Get you possessed by a ghost?” Clint freed his left wrist and glanced down to see if Bucky’s ankles were chained. He could dimly see a white circle on the ground just past Bucky’s knees. He frowned and touched it, smudging what was apparently chalk and breaking the line. 

“...or a demon?” he murmured. 

The room suddenly filled with light as the candles flared brightly, the ones that had been extinguished reigniting. Clint looked up sharply to see Bucky’s eyes glowing golden, the shadows behind his back turning into wings. 

“Well, shit.” 

Bucky’s mouth opened in a weird cross between grinning and baring his _fangs_. 

“Please don’t kill me,” Clint whispered, scooting back. 

Bucky reached out to him with clawed fingers and the door burst inwards, a bunch of armed Hydra goons storming into the room. Clint jerked towards Bucky by reflex and realized he might have made a mistake when clawed hands wrapped around his upper arms. Bucky’s sharp grin was in his face and then the candlelight flared even brighter before the room disappeared in a rush of cold air. 

~~

They were freefalling in a starlit sky, lights of a city far below them. Clint clutched desperately at Bucky, grabbing a fistful of his shirt, his other hand sliding off of metal. 

“I don’t know about you, pal, but I can’t fly!” Clint yelped. Bucky’s hands tightened on his arms and his wings spread, catching the air with a short, sharp snarl. Bucky’s claws dug into Clint’s skin as their descent rapidly slowed. Clint nearly lost his grip, dangling beneath Bucky. “Please don’t drop me,” he begged, looking down at the city far below as the wind whipped at them. 

The city lights disappeared, and then they were over a wide river with lights on each side reflecting off the water, and then that disappeared too, replaced by a forest of tall pine trees. Bucky coasted down to a clearing with another, narrower river running through it, and dropped Clint from ten feet up. 

The shock of hitting the cold water had his breath freezing in his lungs even as he struggled for the surface, the current moving quickly and carrying him away. Bucky plunged in next to him, grabbing tight and keeping his head above the waves as his wet wings flapped uselessly, slapping the water and further stirring it around them. The river turned a bend and Clint reached out for anything he could grab. His hand wrapped around a tree root and his arm yanked hard, his shoulder aching as he was dragged back under. Bucky’s hands slid over him and then gripped his belt tightly. Clint grimaced and dragged himself along the root until it wrapped around a boulder. He dragged himself up to get some air and let the river push them into the lee of the boulder, where the water was calmer and they could put their feet down. 

Clint grabbed Bucky’s shoulder and pulled, both of them slogging out of the river with mud squishing with every step. Clint dropped to his knees as soon as he was on dry ground, coughing up the water he had inhaled. Bucky crouched near him, shaking out his wings and spraying droplets everywhere. 

Clint climbed to his feet once he had caught his breath and faced him warily. Bucky’s wings fluttered and then tucked themselves against his back before he looked up. His eyes _were_ glowing, no golden light here to reflect in them. 

“Bucky?” Clint asked. Bucky straightened and turned to face him, taking slow steps closer. Clint backed away, wary of what he could only call a predator’s prowl. “Bucky, it’s me, Clint. Please say you remember me. I don’t want to fight you.” Clint’s back hit a tree and Bucky stepped right into his space, staring into his eyes. Clint stared back, hands half up and held out to the side in some sort of defensive motion. After a moment, Bucky’s hand closed around his wrist and tugged as he turned and walked away. Clint stumbled after him in the dark. 

“Bucky?” he tried again. Bucky ignored him and led him to a small cabin tucked behind the trees, and how had he even known that was there? Clint heard the lock crunch as Bucky forced the door open and led him inside. Bucky snapped his fingers and the logs in the fireplace burst into flame, lighting the room. There was a couch in front of the fireplace and a kitchen behind the couch. Two open doors led to a bathroom and a bedroom. Bucky let go of his wrist and dropped to a seat on the rug in front of the fire, his wings shuffling behind him. He glanced at Clint and then proceeded to sit silently and stare into the fire. 

“...oookay,” Clint murmured. He closed the door behind himself and then made his way into the kitchen. When he tried the lightswitch, nothing happened. The fridge was dark and empty and warm. The pantry was full of boxes and cans, and the sink ran water even if it looked a little grimey. Clint searched the drawers and found a satellite phone. He glanced at Bucky and took it into the bedroom, closing the door. Where they were was too far out of range for his comms to work. He punched in the number all the Avengers knew by heart, and held his breath as he waited. 

Silence greeted him. 

Clint looked at the dark phone and pressed the power button. It stayed dark. He swore and chucked it at the bed, where it bounced twice on the mattress and landed among the pillows. He raked his hands through his wet hair and left the phone there, heading for the bathroom in search of a towel instead. 

Bucky had beat him to it; a pile of towels was visible on the couch, still folded, and Bucky was looking at him intently, holding one out. Clint sighed and walked over to take it from him. 

“Thanks,” he said. Bucky just kept staring as Clint lifted the towel to his face. Clint squinted back at him and then lifted the towel to dry his hair. “You think you can tell me what happened to you while you were gone?”

Bucky opened his mouth and just growled. 

“Alright, we’ll try again later.” Clint let the towel hang around his shoulders. “Think we can find anything edible here?” He turned to go to the kitchen but Bucky caught his shoulders, turning him and pushing him down to sit on the rug in front of the fire. Bucky set the stack of towels beside him and stalked into the kitchen. Clint shrugged and started stripping out of his gear. His bow and quiver, his arm guards, his phone—waterlogged and useless—as well as his shirt, boots, socks, and pants. Once he was sitting there in just his underwear and hearing aids, he wrapped a few towels around himself to dry off and warm up. 

Meanwhile, Bucky was clattering around in the kitchen, opening cupboards and banging pots and pans, shaking boxes and rattling through silverware. After a few minutes he came over with something in a cast iron pan. He poked at the fire and then stuck the pan in the flames. 

“Could just eat it cold,” Clint said. Bucky shot him a withering glare and Clint sat back, raising his hands in surrender. “Or not.” 

Bucky wiggled the pan until he was sure it would stay still and then went back to the kitchen. A few seconds later something soft hit the back of Clint’s head. He reached back and picked up a bag. 

“Hey, marshmallows! Get some chocolate and graham crackers and we can make smores!” Clint turned to see Bucky holding up a pack of chocolate bars, a hint of amusement on his face. “You are in there after all!” 

Bucky rolled his eyes and came over with the chocolate and a box of graham crackers, setting them on the couch and heading back for plates, silverware, and sticks. Bucky settled on the floor beside Clint once he had everything within reach. His wings arced over them before he tried folding them behind him. They were too long to sit there neatly so he ended up stretching them out, one curling behind Clint’s back. The pressure of it against him actually felt kind of nice. 

“Did you have these when you were a kid?” Clint asked. 

Bucky grunted and see-sawed his hand before pointing up. 

“Kind of? You were older?” Clint guessed. Bucky nodded. “Well good. I’d hate to think you suffered as a kid without s’mores.” Bucky snorted and reached back to grab the sticks. Clint opened the bag of marshmallows and placed it between them. They fell silent for a while, through dinner and s’mores, and then Clint mimed looking at a watch on his empty wrist. 

“Well, it’s getting late. No one’s going to find us tonight probably, we should get some sleep.” 

Bucky nodded and banked the fire as Clint gathered the dishes and took them to the sink. Clint ducked into the bathroom and when he came out, Bucky had turned down the blankets on the bed. “I’ll just take the couch, then,” Clint said. Bucky shook his head and pointed at the bed. “You want me to take the bed? Okay then.” Bucky slipped past him to take his own turn in the bathroom and Clint settled into the bed, on the left side so he could reach his hearing aids on the bedside table. He was asleep before Bucky exited the bathroom, and when the mattress dipped below him, he just mumbled sleepily and turned over on his side, snuggling into the warmth. 

~~

Clint woke in the morning being smothered by feathers. He blinked and pushed at the feathery mass on him and found it was one of Bucky’s wings, spread over top of him. Bucky was asleep next to him, his arm curled under the pillow his head rested on. If he ignored the wings, Bucky looked...almost normal. Clint carefully scooted out of bed, stepping around the wing where it dipped towards the floor. He turned back to grab his hearing aids and found Bucky’s eyes open and focused on him. He felt pinned beneath that golden gaze, frozen in place. They stared at each other for a minute before Bucky blinked, slow and sleepy, his lashes fanning over his cheek for a second. 

“Good morning!” Clint squeaked, grabbing his aids and hurrying out of the room. He shut himself in the bathroom and rubbed his hands over his face. Catching feelings for a demonic Winter Soldier while trapped in a cabin away from civilization with him was _definitely_ a bad idea. And yet there he was anyway, doing just that.

Clint was screwed. 

~~

Clint forced himself through a quick, cold shower before realizing he had nothing to put on except yesterday’s underwear. He found a towel and wrapped it firmly around his waist before opening the door, prepared to dart for a blanket in the bedroom. Bucky turned from his place at the kitchen sink as soon as the door opened and Clint felt frozen again. Bucky was eyeing him intently, tracking the water dripping down his chest and lingering at the edges of his towel. Bucky shook his head and pointed one clawed finger at the bedroom door. 

“Clothesss,” he growled out, ending on a hiss. 

“Right,” Clint said. He waited for Bucky to turn back and quickly closed himself in the bedroom. A pile of neatly folded clothes sat waiting on the bed, which had been made with military efficiency. Clint dried off as quickly as he could and tugged on the clothes: a t-shirt, boxers, and jeans, with thick socks. The shirt stretched around his biceps and he carefully didn’t think about whose clothes they were. When he stepped out after roughly toweling his hair, he realized Bucky was in a similar outfit, but the jeans were stretched obscenely tight around his thighs and instead of a shirt, he was wearing a sheet draped over and between his shoulders and tied at his hips, to accommodate the wings. He also appeared to be making pancakes. 

“How did you get the stove working?” Clint asked, crossing the space to peer over his shoulder curiously. Bucky’s wing twitched next to his face. His jaw worked for a moment. 

“Generator,” he mumbled. “Basssssement.” 

“Why didn’t I think of that? Wait, this place has a basement?” 

Bucky just nodded and flipped the pancake before pointing to a stack of them on the counter. Clint helped himself to the pancakes and bacon Bucky pulled from the oven. 

“Where did you get bacon?”

Bucky shrugged and pointed to the fridge. Clint opened it to find it lit, cold, and half full. There was a jug of milk that definitely hadn’t been there the night before, but he’d never noticed Bucky leaving the cabin. 

“Demon magic,” Clint muttered to himself as he went looking for some syrup. 

~~

Bucky was doing the dishes after breakfast while Clint checked his gear. His phone was still dead but his bow and quiver both seemed functional. His bow snapped into place with the same old motion, no catch or lag to it, and his EMP arrow still lit up when he pressed the button. The faint whine of an engine was his only warning before Bucky was crouched between him and the door, wings spread wide, at the same time he heard a familiar thump that accompanied someone landing in the yard. Footsteps shuffled through the grass and then up the wooden steps before someone knocked on the door. 

“Clint? You in there?” 

Clint sighed in relief. “Yeah, Sam. You can come in but, uh, slowly. And don’t freak out.” 

The door opened slowly to reveal Sam in full costume, red tinted goggles included and wings still out. His eyebrows rose above his goggles incredulously. “Wow.” 

“Yeah,” Clint said ruefully as Bucky growled. “We’re still working on the language thing,” he added. 

“How did you two even get here?” Sam asked, taking in as much of the cabin as he could see from the front door. 

“Teleportation?” Clint offered. “Where is ‘here’, anyway?” 

~~

_“What do you mean we’re in Oklahoma?”_ Clint’s voice echoed through the speakers of the Quinjet, parked in the air nearby but out of sight as they waited for Sam to check on the situation and report back. 

“Oh yeah, he’s fine,” Pietro said, rotating in the copilot’s chair. Wanda rolled her eyes. 

_“Yeah we kinda landed in a river so my phone got fried. Otherwise I would’ve called,” _Clint’s voice continued. _“But hey if we’re only in Oklahoma we can be home in time for lunch, right? I could really go for some pizza.” _

_“And what do we do about...that?”_ Sam asked. 

_“Hey, you’ll be fine on the quinjet, right, Bucky? You’ve done it loads of times. ...Well, if it all goes horribly wrong, at least most of us can fly.”_

“Right, I’ll make sure the containment cell is ready,” Tony muttered behind Wanda’s seat, turning and striding back into the jet. “JARVIS, are you hearing this? Better make sure the Hulk Room is ready when we get back, just in case…” 

~~

They cleaned up the cabin as well as they could and left cash on the counter to pay for what they’d used as well as the broken lock on the front door. The quinjet had a spare set of clothes for them but Bucky refused to part with the sheet he was using as a shirt until Clint brought him a blanket from one of the emergency kits. 

The ride back to New York was nice and peaceful. Wanda was getting in some flight time while Sam sat in the copilot’s seat to help out and take over if she needed him to, while Pietro hung around being a nuisance and testing her patience and focus. Clint sat in the back with Bucky, who refused to let Clint out of arm’s reach and kept a hand locked around his wrist. The landing was smooth, and Clint made sure to say something nice to Wanda before Bucky hustled him out of the jet, wings slightly flared like he felt threatened. His eyes seemed to be glowing brighter than before, too. 

Tony led Wanda and Pietro to the elevator, leaving Clint, Bucky, and Sam on the roof since they wouldn’t all fit with Bucky’s wings. Bucky looked out toward the skyline, spreading his wings out, his feathers ruffling in the wind. Clint twisted his hand so he was holding Bucky’s wrist instead of the other way around. 

“No flying off now,” he murmured. Bucky turned and blinked his golden eyes at him, and then the elevator returned for them. They piled in even though Bucky hissed a little when the doors closed, and they arrived a moment later on the fondly nicknamed ‘Hulk floor’. Bruce and Tony were waiting for them. The floor was split into two separate glass enclosures: one for the Hulk, and one for any other visitors they had to contain in a smash-proof room. The second one stood open and ready, Bruce carefully not looking at them as he manipulated a tablet next to the door. 

“Are you sure this is necessary?” Clint asked. “I spent a whole night with him and I was fine.” 

“This is just a precaution in case Hydra set some ticking time bomb on our feathery friend,” Tony said. “Better safe than exploded.” 

“You’re an ass sometimes, Tony,” Sam said. 

Clint tuned out their bickering, watching as Bucky stepped up to investigate the door and the room beyond. Bucky picked up a couple of the dozens of pillows scattered around the room and inspected them. 

“You sure you’ll be alright here?” Clint asked softly. Bucky looked up at him and dropped the pillows in favor of approaching Clint and taking his hands. 

“Sssstay,” Bucky said quietly. Clint glanced over his shoulder to see the others watching them. Sam shrugged. 

“We can start looking for a cure without you if you’d rather help him, you know...cope with that,” Sam said. “You have more in common with him than anyone else does.” He cut off sharply, and everyone heard the ‘_except for Steve’_ that he carefully didn’t say. 

“Only as long as we get room service. I was promised a pizza,” Clint said. 

“You’ll get your pizza, don’t worry,” Tony said. “JARVIS, you can take care of that, right?” 

“Of course, sir.” 

“Great. Next order of business, then. Let’s try the simplest solution first: how soon do you think we can get a priest up here to do an exorcism?” Tony said as he headed back to the elevator, Sam trailing after him. 

“Is there anything you want to do or get before we close the door?” Bruce asked. Clint glanced at Bucky and shook his head. 

“I don’t think so, Doc. We’ll let JARVIS know if we need anything.” 

Bruce nodded and waited for them to get clear before punching in the code that would shut the door and seal them inside. 

“Brucey, let’s go! We have things to do!” Tony called. 

“Good luck,” Bruce murmured. 

“Yeah. You too,” Clint said. Bruce smiled and joined the others at the elevator, disappearing as the doors closed. Clint turned to Bucky again. “Well, it’s just you and me now. I guess all we have to do is wait.” 

Bucky snorted and set about exploring the place. Clint found a cushion to sit on and watched him, wondering how long it would take to find a cure for his condition. 

~~

The exorcism didn’t work. Neither did the second, or the third, or the holy water, various religious garments, or the smack to the face when Tony got desperate, though several people were injured with the last one. Miraculously, Clint was the only one present who _wasn’t_ injured. Bucky herded him into the cozy fortress he’d constructed with a mountain of pillows and hissed at the people at the door. 

It was a relief when the Avengers were called to assemble and the two of them were left alone. Clint lounged in the mountain of cushions and watched Bucky pick at the decorative stitching on a pillow which had proved to be itchy. 

“You okay?” Clint asked. Bucky barely glanced at him before shrugging. 

“Annoying,” he grumbled. 

“Yeah, they can be sometimes, but they mean well.” 

“Trying to _fix_ me,” Bucky growled, flinging the pillow at the door. It bounced off the glass and fell harmlessly to the floor. 

Clint watched the trajectory and kicked another pillow over for him to mess with. “Of course. They’re fixers, that’s what they do.” 

Bucky ignored the pillow and looked at him. “Not you.” 

Clint shrugged and looked away, picking up his own pillow to fidget with. “Lots of us have lost some...bodily autonomy. Lots of us have had things done to us we’d love to fix. Tony’s been working on upgrades and new devices for the hole in his chest ever since he came back to the States. Bruce has spent his whole life searching for a cure to get rid of the Hulk. But there’s no cure for deafness. I’m going to be living with it for the rest of my life, and even with Tony’s fancy gadgets, it’ll probably only get worse as I get older.” He shrugged again. “So I suppose my mindset is less about fixing things and more about...learning to live with them. Whatever shape that might take.” 

Bucky looked down and pulled the pillow into his lap. “You help. Not them.” 

“That’s why you like me best, right?” Clint said with a grin. 

Bucky punched the pillow. “Don’t _like_ you.” 

Clint swallowed the pang of hurt. “Right, because you love me,” he joked to cover it. Bucky raised his head and fixed him with a look so gold and glowing and _intense_ that Clint shrank back into the pillows. Bucky shifted onto his knees and crawled towards him, and it was crazy how he could make even a crawl seem both sexy and intimidating. 

“Don’t _like_ you,” Bucky purred, getting into his space. 

“Oh.” Clint gulped as Bucky braced himself over him and leaned in, his wings coming up to create a feathery black curtain around them. They were close enough that Clint could feel Bucky’s breath on his lips when JARVIS cleared his nonexistent throat. 

“Excuse me, sirs, but the team has just returned and are on their way to this floor.” 

Clint groaned and Bucky sat back on his heels with a scowl. “Why, JARVIS? Why now?” Clint asked. 

“They have...someone with them. I believe they can explain it better than I can.” 

Bucky growled and shoved himself away to pace around the edges of the room. Clint laid there staring at the ceiling for a moment to compose himself and then pushed to his feet and collected the pillow Bucky had been mangling from the floor near the door. When the elevator opened and the team stepped out, Clint dropped the pillow. 

“Steve?”

Bucky was beside him in an instant. “_Steve?_” he echoed, demanding. 

“Yeah, it’s me.” Steve smiled, and he looked tired and thin, a deep purple bruise on his left cheekbone that only emphasised his sunken cheeks and the bags around his eyes. He lifted his right hand to wave, his left hand clutched in one of Sam’s. “Hi, Buck.” 

“Surprise!” Tony said next to him, doing jazz hands. 

“What the fuck,” Clint said. 

“This is the real Steve,” Sam said, and he sounded exhausted. “The other one, Captain Hydra or whatever? They cloned Steve and warped the clone’s memories to make him think he’d been Hydra the whole time. They had the real Steve locked up.” 

“How did you escape? And how can we be sure you are the real Steve?” Clint demanded. 

“Let us open the door and I can show you,” Steve said. 

Clint glanced at Bucky, who was twitching slightly as he stared at Steve. His wings were held tightly to his back, which Clint had been helping him learn to do the last few days so that the feathery appendages didn’t betray his every emotion. The line of his spine was tense, though. Clint clenched his jaw and nodded to Tony, who moved to the controls. Steve stepped forward, both hands held out at waist height, palms up, as Tony opened the door. Bucky pounced on Steve as soon as he did, then hissed and bounced back. His right palm was blistered, and his left was red and glowing. Clint could smell the stink of burned skin and burning metal. 

“What the _fuck_,” Clint demanded. 

Steve’s eyes flashed white and he sighed. “I am sorry about that,” a voice that wasn’t Steve’s came from his mouth. “There aren’t many ways to prove my existence without being unnecessarily showy. I am an angel of the lord; you may call me Zuriel.” 

“What happened to Steve?” Clint asked, reaching out to set a hand on Bucky’s shoulder as he growled. 

“I’m still here,” Steve said. “It’s still me. I’m just...sharing space. For now. Zuriel helped me escape and get back to New York.” 

“When we ran into your friends, they told us about your predicament and asked if I could help.” Zuriel held out Steve’s hands. “I can, if you will let me.” 

Clint eyed Bucky and Steve and everyone else assessingly. “I think we’re going to want a full explanation first,” he said. He tugged Bucky back to their pillow mountain, a place that was safe and his and _theirs_. He waved a hand at the remaining pillows and cushions scattered around the room. “Everyone, have a seat.” 

~~

Clint paced around the edges of the room, vaguely aware that they were all watching him as he circled the group. When he passed within Bucky’s reach, Bucky grabbed him by the belt and yanked him down. He ended up sprawled half in Bucky’s lap, and Bucky tucked a wing securely around him. 

“You’re sure it won’t hurt him?” Clint asked Zuriel. “You already burned his hands.” The left hand, being metal, had cooled, but the right was still healing away the blisters. 

Zuriel grimaced. “And that is unfortunate. Nothing demonic in nature can touch me without getting burned unless I allow it. My intention was to have a small contact with him. I wasn’t prepared for the...enthusiasm.” 

“So you were still planning to hurt him,” Clint said, crossing his arms. Bucky’s left arm snaked around his waist. 

“Only a little bit. Nothing he couldn’t endure,” Zuriel said. 

Clint leaned back against Bucky’s chest and turned his head to look at him. Sitting the way they were, they were almost too close to make eye contact, almost close enough to kiss. From the soft sounds of breath from the others, he wasn’t the only one who had noticed. 

“It’s up to you,” Clint murmured. Bucky blinked slow and looked to Zuriel. 

“Tell me again,” he said. 

“You’re not possessed; there is no demon’s soul in your body along with yours. You only gained some of their attributes and powers. Hell has no claim over you and you can’t be summoned. I can leave you the way you are, or I can take it away and leave you as you were before,” Zuriel repeated calmly. “It won’t hurt, either way.” 

Bucky grimaced. “What if I...keep it. But...want to hide?” he asked. 

Zuriel looked thoughtful. “You have already been working to gain control over it. With time, you could learn to mask your appearance and hide your wings away. They would essentially go into a pocket dimension; still there, still attached to you, but intangible and invisible. It would take time and practice. Though I could give you an amulet that would return your appearance to how it was before as long as you wear it, until you learn to do so yourself without the help.” 

Bucky nodded decisively. “I want that.” 

“Very well.” Zuriel held up Steve’s hands, one above the other, and the space between them began to glow with a white light. “What shape would you like it?” 

Bucky glanced at Clint. “Make it a bullseye. With an arrow dead center.” 

Zuriel looked at them both and smiled. “I have just the thing.” The glow between Steve’s hands grew bright enough they had to look away, and when the glow faded and they looked back, a golden chain was strung between Steve’s fingers. The amulet hung just above the palm of his other hand. The arrow was large and sharp-looking, and it was positioned so that it passed through a bow at rest as well as the center of the bullseye. The chain connected to the arrowhead and the fletching. 

“That looks real nice,” Steve murmured, studying it before holding it out. Bucky reached out, taking the chain carefully with his fingertips so that it wouldn’t come into contact with his still blistered palm. Clint took the amulet so they could both look at it. 

“Can I turn this off when I don’t need it anymore?” Bucky asked Zuriel, who looked thoughtful again. 

“I can set the magic to wear off when it is no longer needed if you wish to keep the amulet.” 

Bucky nodded, and Zuriel gestured towards them. The amulet glowed briefly, warm in Clint’s palm, and faded again. 

“There. That should be everything you need, I believe. If you would oblige me and try it out?” Zuriel asked. Clint lifted the chain and Bucky ducked his head so Clint could place it around his neck. As soon as Clint let go, Bucky’s wings faded away, his claws melted back into regular fingernails, and his eyes returned to their familiar icy blue. Zuriel nodded with a smile. “I shall take my leave, then. Good luck to the both of you. Steven, thank you for allowing me the use of your body.” 

“Um, you’re welcome,” Steve replied. 

“It was a pleasure to meet you all,” Zuriel said to the group, full of honest meaning. “Farewell.” Steve’s eyes flashed white, his whole body briefly glowed, and Zuriel was gone. 

Steve instantly slumped, the exhaustion returning to his face. Sam reached out to support him, pressing close and wrapping an arm around his waist. Steve smiled gratefully at him. 

“You okay?” Sam asked. 

“Yeah. I should probably eat something, but I’m just so tired,” Steve said. 

“Hey Tony, can we order lunch? A big spread for supersoldier appetites?” Clint asked, ignoring how much he missed the warmth of Bucky’s wing wrapped around him. 

“I’m on it,” Tony said, reaching for his phone. “What do we want?” 

“Pizza,” Clint said immediately. 

“I want a huge bowl of spaghetti. Like a mountain,” Steve mumbled, leaning into Sam’s shoulder. 

“What I’m hearing is Italian. Everyone good with Italian? Yes? Good. JARVIS, be a dear and order from that place a couple blocks down,” Toyn said as he stood up and turned away, holding his phone to his ear. “Hey Pep, I’ve got some good news! No, this time it’s actually good, I swear.” His voice faded as he walked away toward the elevator. 

“Steve. Steve, at least wait to sleep until we get you to your bed,” Sam said, struggling under a pile of snoring supersoldier. 

“I’ll help,” Bucky said. He gently disentangled himself from Clint and went over, pulling Steve to his feet and then, with Sam’s help, lifting him into his arms, his hands clamped firmly under Steve’s thighs. They followed Tony to the elevator and were quickly whisked away. Clint was left behind with Wanda, Pietro, and Bruce. 

“Are you okay?” Wanda asked. 

“Yeah, I’m fine. Why?” Clint asked back. 

“You’ve gone through a lot lately,” Bruce murmured. Wanda nodded in agreement. “We’ve been concerned.” 

Clint scoffed and got to his feet. “I’m fine, guys, really. I’m not the one who had creepy Hydra magic done to them. I’m still just regular old Hawkeye. Hey, I’ll see you later, though, okay? Let me know when the pizza gets here.” Clint let himself into the stairwell and walked a couple floors before he stopped, sat in a corner with his back to the wall, and put his hands over his face, sighing out a long breath. He had things to process. 

~~

Later, after Steve’s nap and team lunch, during which Steve almost fell asleep in his spaghetti, and then another nap for Steve while Clint pilfered a few pillows from his and Bucky’s pillow mountain for his bed, Clint headed to the common floor for dinner and found that he was early. Sam was the only one in the kitchen, and he was leaning on the counter looking towards the windows. Clint glanced over and could see Bucky and Steve, backlit by the city, arms wrapped tight around each other. There were no wings in sight. 

“That doesn’t bother you?” Clint asked softly, moving to join Sam at the counter. Sam glanced at him. 

“Nah, man. They’re best friends, like brothers. They needed this.” Sam raised an eyebrow. “Does it bother you?” 

Clint shrugged, uncomfortable. 

“I get it, man, I do,” Sam said. “You guys are new; it makes sense you’re a little unsure of where you stand. But have faith. If he’s anything like Steve, he commits hard.” 

“Hard, huh?” Clint teased. 

Sam rolled his eyes and shoved at him. “You know what I mean.” 

The elevator opened before they could say more, disgorging a bickering Wanda and Pietro. Sam straightened up as Pietro zipped past them, holding Wanda’s phone in his hand. Steve and Bucky broke apart and Steve came to see what the commotion was about. Bucky stayed by the windows, staring out at the city lights, and Clint slipped away to join him. This high up, the lines of cars down below looked like ants, and the skyline of the city blurred into the water in the dark. Bucky’s hand brushed the back of his, and Clint turned his hand so Bucky could thread their fingers together. Clint took a slow, deep breath to steady himself before looking over to find Bucky was already watching him. 

“I was kinda getting used to the gold,” Clint murmured. 

Bucky reached up towards his eyes but then redirected to the amulet resting on his chest. “You don’t mind...do you?”

“I did say it was your choice. Your body, you get to decide what to do with it. I didn’t want to influence your decision,” Clint said. 

“Do you...like it?” Bucky asked. Clint sighed, glancing away as he searched for words, and registered a blur of motion as Bucky reached for the chain around his neck. 

“Wait, Bucky, don’t—”

Bucky pulled off the amulet and his wings shimmered back into existence, his eyes changing color between one blink and the next. 

“Don’t do it just for me,” Clint finished. 

Bucky shook his head. “Not _for_ you,” he corrected. He shook his wings out and folded them around Clint. “_With_ you. Want to test these out later. Go flying.” He took both of Clint’s hands in his and looked him in the eyes. 

“Come with me?” he whispered. 

Clint swallowed and nodded. “Yeah. Yeah I will.” Bucky grinned, bright and beautiful. “Think we should bring a parachute, just in case?” Clint joked weakly. 

Bucky let go of his hands to grip Clint’s hips and pull him in so their bodies were flush together. “Whatever you want,” he murmured. He studied Clint’s face, those golden eyes roving, then closed the last few inches between them and kissed him. 

Whether Bucky could fly or not, in the end it didn’t matter. 

Clint had already fallen. 


End file.
